


Pillow Talk

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sleeps over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

"God I am so tired," Stiles says when he comes out of the bathroom, lifting his shirt over his head.

"Why are you still here?" Derek asks as he tugs on his sweats, the good ones that hang off his hips and make Stiles feel grabby.

Stiles rolls his eyes and shimmies out of his jeans, neatly folding them with his shirt, and steps out into the hallway to put both on his shoes so he remembers to wash them in the morning. "Why are you  _always_ saying that?" he retorts, closing the door to Derek's room behind himself when he returns. "It's kind of rude."

"Because you should be sleeping at your own damn house." Derek pulls on the string of the ceiling fan that Lydia picked out ("Cherry wood with silver accents,  _perfect_  for a broody Alpha") and it starts turning, humming soothingly.

"Oh please," Stiles says, walking over to Derek and putting his hands on either side of the wolf's face, "you love when I sleep over." He'd miraculously grown a couple centimetres since he'd been sixteen, so when he gives Derek a kiss, he doesn't have to strain like he used to. He's pretty sure this annoys Derek who secretly gets off on being older and tougher.

Derek shakes his head a little and flicks Stiles behind his ear before moving to the bed. He pulls the blanket that he keeps for Stiles out and puts it on Stiles' side before laying down on his own. "I bet your dad misses you."

Stiles wraps himself into a blanket burrito and rolls onto his side to look at Derek. "Uh, it's summer and I'm eighteen. He kind of  _expects_  me to be out."

"I think he expects you to be out because you're  _you,_ " Derek says, resting his head on a hand,"and you sneak out regardless of what he says."

Which is a true statement, or was when he was younger, still legally a kid ("You still  _are_ a kid," as Derek tells him all the time, but Stiles is old enough to order off infomercials so his argument is largely ignored). Then a memory springs up, making Stiles laugh. "Remember that one time I was trying to get out my window to go meet you?"

"Don't remind me. You're lucky I was there or you would have died, you idiot." Derek pokes at Stiles with a finger and a smile.

He swats Derek's hand away and says, " _Point is_ , it's fine." He pauses a second before pulling the blanket up over and mouth , mumbling, "But, well, I mean, if you  _really do_  want me to leave, I will," through the fabric.

Derek regards him quietly, in the way Stiles used to think was in judgment but is really Derek trying to figure Stiles out. It's a look that he's grown used to seeing, honestly.

Finally Derek sort of softly questions  _Seriously?_  and draws the cover away from Stiles' face. He cards his fingers through Stiles' dark hair, which he may or may not have grown out just so he could experience that, and kisses Stiles on the nose.

(That speaks volumes more than anything Derek could have said in response to Stiles' insecurity because Stiles loves getting nose kisses but Derek hates giving them because it makes him feel more paternal than anything.)

Derek leans back to switch off his bedside light and the room settles into darkness apart from the glow of the waxing moon coming in from the window behind Stiles. When Derek relaxes on his side again he fixes his eyes on Stiles. They're capturing the dim illumination, reflecting back and really reminding Stiles that Derek is not human. It's a fact that he's subconsciously aware of, obviously because he's still got his pack that he meets with, but sometimes Stiles forgets and is shocked and amazed all over again.

Stiles brings an arm out of his cocoon and gently puts his fingers under Derek's eye. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this," he murmurs, skimming fingertips against skin.

"Being with a werewolf?" Derek asks and because Stiles knows him now he can pick up on a very faint trace of sadness under the nonchalance.

Stiles snorts. "Come on, I dealt with  _that_  a long time ago. No, just your eyes."

"Sorry," he says and closes them. It's because of stuff like that when Stiles wonders how he was ever so terrified of Derek, who is in reality a big softie and really courteous. (At least, where Stiles is concerned he is.)

"It's okay. I find it kind of alluring, actually." He dances his fingers across Derek's cheek, grinning when his eyes reappear.

"You are a grade A dumbass," Derek tells him in a voice a normal person would say  _You are such a great and adorable person._

"Calling me names twice in ten minutes, how mature," Stiles responds. He wriggles his torso free of the blanket and scoots close enough to lay his head on Derek's chest.

"Can't help it if you deserve it." He enfolds Stiles in his arms, warming him more than his blanket could thanks to the heightened heat that comes with being a werewolf.

"Cuddlemonster," Stiles snarks because Derek hates that almost as much as Sourwolf.

"I will not hesitate to push you off this bed."

"Yeah yeah yeah." Stiles closes his eyes and sighs in contentment. "Love you too."

Derek doesn't respond then, but Stiles has learned a lot in two years and he's got his ear pressed right to Derek's heart. He can draw his own conclusions.


End file.
